


Before the Dust Sweeps Us Away

by SaltyWords (agent4hire22)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Depression, Ficlet, First Kiss, Heavy Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Season/Series 12, Short One Shot, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 14:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10118438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent4hire22/pseuds/SaltyWords
Summary: “Don't lie to me.”“I'm not.”Castiel was, but the clean pairs of boots in the entryway had already told him Dean hadn't been hunting, and the empty castoff of liquor bottles and the twenty-some pounds he was missing had told Cas he hadn't been eating either.Dean needed someone to lie.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is very loosely based on some meta speculation I read that the BMoL will hunt Cas as some point this season, and that everyone will eventually turn against Dean as alliances change, and Dean's unwavering devotion to Cas pulls him apart from his family.
> 
>  
> 
> I'm sorry. I did this super quick while I work on some larger things and figured, "Eh, it's been awhile. Post something." *shrugs*

“Lemme ask you something,” Dean said. He took the mug out of Castiel’s hand and set it on the coffee table. Lingered there a moment, fingers rapping the table edge before he sat back. He never quite squared his shoulders again, couldn’t seem to get them proud. “You been through it, man. How was any of this worth it for you? You pulled me outta hell and the rest of it's just been a fuckin' nosedive.”

Castiel swallowed. The lavender in the herbal tea still lingered on his tongue. It was a beautiful flavor, nothing muddling it now. He looked through Dean, took his time, worried his cheeks between his teeth as he tried to find -- not _an answer --_ but the _right one._

From angel to human and back again. Then the amalgamation in between he’d eventually become: all of it had been a different mountain to climb. But it wasn't until the the British Men of Letters had trapped him, and drained him, that it all really compiled.

There was evil in this world. And there was malice.

Both of which the Brits had in generous supply. They'd drained Cas' grace from him, and never stopped once to ask if, at a certain point, they were just robbing him of his blood too. Because, they didn't care. Once a monster, always a monster, and the cruelty was part of their fun.

But, now Cas had that timid, slip-of-a-look on Dean's face shining back at him. And it ignited that fire in his chest. Warmed him back up. Reminded him why he'd stripped his feathers in the first place. 

It was that indescribable part of Dean's personality that'd first flicked on Cas' lights. Dean's hopeful and careful determination.

_Blind compassion._

He was no exception now. Soft eyes and unsure fingers at the edge of Cas' blanket as he tugged it tighter around Cas' shoulders. 

There was a strange rush of comfort in it. So many things could change, but that... _that was unwavering._

Castiel smiled.  “You, Dean,” he said. 

“Me? Everything you’ve been through, an' I'm the cherry? I'm not the cherry.”

“You are. You taught me to feel. You taught me to love. I'd do it all again just to have met you. Just to be here now, on this couch with you.”

“You were tortured --”

“So? It wasn't the first time.”

Dean's eyes dropped. “Cas --”

“It's true. Besides, the bad makes the good sweeter.”

“Yeah, well love can be bad too.”

“No, love is love, Dean. The goodness or badness of it is beside the point. There’s nothing like it. It’s a world of its own. It makes life worth having, no matter the course of it.” 

Dean's face said a thousand things while his mouth said nothing. He scrubbed an eye, knitted and un-knitted his fingers. His eyes were red now. Wetter than before. 

“But you were tortured... because of me.”

“You didn't do it.”

“No, but my family did, an' I'm sorry for that --”

“No, they didn't --”

“Don't lie to me.”

“I'm not.” 

Castiel was, but the clean pairs of boots in the entryway had already told him Dean hadn't been hunting, and the empty castoff of liquor bottles and the twenty-some pounds Dean was missing had told Cas he hadn't been eating either. Dean needed someone to lie.

Because Mary had finally jumped all the way to the other side of the line… and Sam had just left. In the wind. Left Dean to his own devices. And loneliness for Dean was a particularly brutal kind of poison. 

It showed.

Everything in the bunker was clean -- too clean. Books piled on the library table. Worn edges on all of them. Some of it lore, but most of it just… fiction. Things Cas had never noticed on the bunker shelves before. The kind of stories that try to give a lonely man company.

And he was different. Softer now. A little more broken. 

He touched Dean's hand, watched the muscles at the back of his jaw hop as Dean timidly responded. Curled warm fingers over Cas'. “I missed you, Dean.” 

“I missed you, too.” It seemed to have come from his toes. So buried and out of place, Cas had to do a double take just to make sure he’d seen Dean’s lips move.

“I looked for you.” His voice cracked. His face flushed red.

“I know --”

“Day an’ night, Cas.”

“I know. I heard you praying until I couldn’t hear the prayers anymore. Thank you for praying.”

“I always pray.”

“I know.” Cas smiled. A little half-cocked thing that was meant to take the sadness out of Dean's eyes, but he missed by a thousand miles. “And then you found me.”

Dean chewed his bottom lip and lost a tear. He suddenly reached forward, brushed a thumb down Cas’ cheek, leaned into him, and the heat coming off his skin all-at-once made the blanket moot. 

He ghosted their mouths together, and the hairs on the back of Cas' neck goosebumped with the rich kick of nerves the closeness brought. His breath smelled sweet. Bourbon on the edges of it like he’d tried to hide his six evening drinks with a peppermint candy. Cas breathed him in. That woody aftershave. The fresh, Irish Zest soap. 

Cas could say without looking that there was a bar stuck to the shower tray. No one ever peeled the slivers up except for him -- wandering through. 

“God, I need you to stop me right now,” Dean begged, and all the energy in the room balled in Cas’ stomach. 

“I don’t want to,” Cas whispered back. He dragged the tip of his nose through Dean’s unshaven face. He’d been cold for so long. Concrete floors and walls. Thoughts of this only in the darkest corners of his mind.

Dean kissed him, soft. Warm breath and electric skin. And, _Yeah, h_ e did taste like peppermint and bourbon, and it was a flavor-smack brighter than the lavender. Just enough tongue to melt the rest of the chill from his core.

Dean lingered, then pulled back, and all of his attention was on Cas, fixed. None of it was trying to escape. “I’m gonna kill ‘em,” he whispered. “All of 'em. For what they did to you.”

“Your mother’s one of them, Dean. I don’t want that for you.”

“She made her choice.” 

He was different. 

Everything was.

Cas dragged him for another kiss. Dropped the edges of his blanket and tugged Dean in. Fuck the blankets, tonight Castiel was going to try Dean Winchester on for size, and Dean came to him, easy. 

_Of course he did._

His eyes were hungry and Cas’ heart was singing. He crawled on top as they slid over on the couch.

Because they had time to make up for and _things to feel._

Because they could see it now.

This was _love_.

All they needed was this. 

Fuck the rest of it.

**Author's Note:**

> [winchester-reload on tumblr](http://winchester-reload.tumblr.com/)


End file.
